


The Apparation

by SpuffyCarrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chance Meetings, Complete, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/M, Loss of Parent(s), Post-War, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpuffyCarrie/pseuds/SpuffyCarrie
Summary: Draco apparates from an unknown location and shocks Hermione by arriving in a place she never expected. Will he sweep her off her feet? Or will this post-war meeting end in disaster? Perhaps it could be the beginning of something real for them at a time when they both desperately need it? Or maybe they’ll hex each other into oblivion, who knows? Unbetaed Dramione one shot, all mistakes are my own.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 48





	The Apparation

Thinking she looked amazing, Hermione left her house, wiggling her bottom a little as her new black tulip skirt with a zip running up the back swished around her thighs. Testing her six-inch silver sparkly heels on her front steps, she smoothed her hands down her black leather biker jacket over a shimmering black vest top. Her waist length curls shone in the lazy evening sun as she threw them over her shoulder, toffee and gold lowlights hinting at an expensive trip to a stylist.

She tottered to her grey Aston Martin DB9 which sat on her lengthy drive and pressing on the key, it beeped twice before she opened the door, revealing a buttery leather clad interior. She glanced at her yacht on the river, checking all was well with the vessel and went to enter the car.

"Oi, ‘mione! You're looking hot tonight." Her neighbour shouted, and her hand paused as she pulled the door wide, balancing with one foot inside the car. She'd always hated her name being shortened.

"Alfie Brown, it’s just so lovely to see you again,” she called over dryly, “you know your annoying flirtation gets you nowhere, so perhaps change the record and go home to your long-suffering wife?" She chided as she slid her tanned legs into the car, tossing her hair once more and tipping him an evil wink. 

She took a moment to check her lips in the rear-view mirror, pursing them and pouting, content they still sparkled with L'Oréal baby pink lip gloss. Her diamond rings twinkled in the evening light as she turned the key in the ignition and placed her hands on the wheel. She knew she shouldn't encourage him, but she quite liked the attention from the local bad boy, even if she wouldn't touch him with a barge pole. Hermione Granger she'd learned better than that when she found out he was married. Nowadays, although she wasn’t as conservative as she’d once been, she still had the common sense not to shit on her own doorstep and wondered what it was with men who couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants in the presence of a pretty girl or someone with a bit of ready cash? 

What Hermione wanted was simple, a man who held his own, but didn't rely on her too much. Someone who just got on with his own career without asking too much of her while she got on with her job as a curse breaker at the Ministry. Realistically, someone to shag and date when she had time. She was rich, the Ministry had rewarded the Golden Trio heavily after the war and she could do as she pleased, which included buying her house and a boat she’d called Nymphadora and she rarely sailed.

It was three years after she left Hogwarts, two years since a very physical post war affair with Viktor Krum, and one year since she’d fallen into some pretty self-destructive behaviour following their very public breakup and her retreat from the wizarding world. Viktor was always very physical being, apparently more so when it was reciprocal in a hotel after the Quidditch World Cup in Moscow, circa whatever, she wasn't sure she cared what date it all began between them. Needless to say, the athlete and the bookworm never quite worked out. Between the sheets they were a match made in heaven, but unfortunately Viktor didn’t seem to think that meant they were exclusive and decided to share his god like athletic prowess amongst the females of the wizarding world while he was playing abroad. She bit her lip and squeezed her thighs together when an unbidden memory of his face between her thighs surged to the front of her mind, then she flinched, what a bastard! Travelling at eighty miles per hour in a thirty zone, she swerved another car, earning a loud blow on his horn. 

Hermione Grangers driving skills were no longer akin to her broomstick flight skills. Yes, she could ride a dragon out of Gringotts, and Merlin knew how she’d managed it, her bravado was always a mystery to her until she got herself in so deep with Harry or the Order, she’d had to do something wild and reckless. Life was quieter now, but still she rode her own muggle dragon, darting in and out of traffic at the fastest speed possible. 

Things were different at her house in muggle London. She wore what she liked, talked how she liked and adored the new friends she'd made because they didn't ask questions as long as she bought the next round. Some were neighbours, some people she met frequently at the local pub in the village on the river at Maidenhead, The Red Lion, which of course, she frequented because of its similarity to the Gryffindor Crest. She often drank cocktails, in fact more often than not, her favourite being a Woo Woo, and on a normal night they all got so totally pissed she didn't bother sleeping, so bad her hangovers tended to be the next day. 

She had the option to use wizarding hangover potions or pepper up, but somehow drinking through the pain seemed the best option and being her, she took to the job like she was blindfolded. She only really did this on her days off, because sweet Circe, if she pressed auto-destruct in front of her wizarding peers, they’d have a field day, a bit like with what happened when Viktor was caught red-handed in another witches bed by the Prophet and that fucking bitch Skeeter. Hermione’s alter ego, the golden girl, would be treated like a pariah and she couldn’t cope with that, not there, not when Harry and Ron’s reputations were intermingled with hers in such a way. No, it was better to live her way, distanced from those she loved.

If she were honest, she felt easier living as a muggle while keeping one toe in the wizarding world and often likened her circumstance to striding heaven and hell. She could have disappeared altogether, but in this way at least she knew if anything untoward was happening because Harry would send an owl. 

Most nights she drank with friends and drove on to another town after, looking for some hot guy to pick up for a late-night shag. Yes, that was her, a woman desperate for comfort but not wanting anything long term, and it was fine but in time she found herself racing further and further away of a night, starting with London, then Reading, Warminster, Cranbourne. Tonight, she found herself racing down back roads towards Bath. She always turned south, never north and she wondered if there was something in the back of her mind which sent her that way because north reminded her of Hogwarts and the places she’d once thought of as home. Nowhere felt like home now, not truly. She’d felt lost since she left school, especially with no true centre and no family to speak of.

The war had taught her a lesson, one that challenged her to seek out instant gratification because she knew it could be the final time she experienced anything if something like it happened again during her lifetime. She learned that from the loss of Sirius, Tonks and Remus and not because they behaved in that way, but because they hadn’t as far as she knew, she believed they didn’t genuinely live until the last excruciating moments and she was insistent that wouldn’t be her own fate.

Of course, she visited Harry and the Weasley’s and they welcomed her like a long lost daughter, but she felt more like herself in the muggle world, she felt like she didn't have to be the best friend who knew everything, the bookworm or the brightest witch of her age anymore. But, if she was honest, she also wasn’t her when she raced the roads, when she did those things with men she met. She wasn't her anymore, she was someone she didn’t know, someone her friends would be disappointed in, yet she carried on, not thinking, something driving her from within.

She scrubbed at her eyes, she was tired, a little drunk and the back roads were unlit and pitch black. Each one wound into another, curving with trees lining the road until she eventually saw the lights of Bath city in the distance, streetlights blinding her as she raced down the long, arched incline to civilisation. She blinked momentarily as she saw a cloud of black appear at the side of the road and swerving with a scream, she still hit it, braking hard and almost hitting a tree trunk at the side of the road. Her foot was on the brake pedal until she almost stood upright. The car skidded into a darkened copse just off the edge of the road with black marks smoking in its wake, her head almost hit off the window next to her. Wiping sweat from her brow, she looked up in shock as someone appeared in her passenger seat covered in blood. 

Hermione felt a huge throb in her chest and then another as her heart raced, oh godrick, not now, was she having a heart attack? "Oh my god, are you alright?" She shrieked, breathing heavily as she tried to get her heart under control. 

Moving closer she tried to inspect the man’s injuries, placing her hand on his shirt and drawing it back with a gasp as she peered at the sticky wetness she found on her palm. “I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know how you got here!” Did she black out? Was she so tired she was hallucinating? 

"Yeah, I'm fine apart from being mown down by a crazy person." He uttered without opening his eyes. His lashes fluttered as quickly as her mind and heart raced.

"Wait. How did you get inside my car?" She covered her mouth and reached for her wand in alarm.

The man, who’s blonde hair was tinged pink with blood, shrugged momentarily and opened one blackened eye. "Granger, it’s probably because you're a maniac driver."

Jolting, she scrubbed at her eyes and looked again. Nobody called her Granger anymore, she didn't remember many calling her that apart from—"Oh, for fucks sake! Malfoy, how did you get inside my car? I swear to fucking god I'll hex your balls off if you don't get out of here this instant!"

Malfoy reached to touch the seeping wound on his head and sighed deeply. "Don’t get your bloody wand in a knot, you ran me down as I was apparating home and since when do you swear like a muggle navvy? It’s unbecoming of the golden girl." He smirked, or she thought he did, she couldn’t be sure when he was so badly injured.

"I—I, my God! How do you even know what a navvy is? I swear to god if you don't get out of this car right now I’ll—"

"You'll go to the bloody library?" He answered caustically. “Perhaps you might find a book there on how not to smash into wizards who are minding their own sodding business?”

"No, I'll—I'll tell your father!" She paused, hysteria coursing through her belly like a contingent of butterflies, she couldn't help but roar with laughter at his comment because for some reason felt good to snipe at him after all this time. It felt good because she knew she had this one opportunity to give him what for, like she’d never been able to at school. She was elated by her retort. Her giggles died away and there was a lengthy silence until he spoke again. 

“That would almost be funny if he hadn’t died last night in Azkaban, Granger.”

Her hands covered her mouth in shock and she accidentally pressed her foot on the accelerator and jolted them forwards, the car further scraping the bark of the tree. Malfoy’s hand shot out and covered her hand on the wheel to steady them. It was strangely warm on hers, nothing like she ever expected from the boy who’d been glacial and indifferent to her other than to torment her with nasty threats and bullyish tactics. But then, she’d never expected to see him again after the war or touch him at all, he was just suddenly there, large as life, once again. His father had died, her gut dropped as she almost knew what that felt like, her parents had never been returned to her and they may as well be dead for all they remembered of their only daughter from their home on the Gold Coast.

“Much as it appears, from my last experience of your driving at least, that you’d enjoy joining Lucius on the other side of the veil. I, personally, would like to remain intact, especially as the wizarding world find it strange when I do not attend his funeral with my grieving mother tomorrow.” His voice was flat, and he looked to his hand placed over hers, blinking several times and drawing it away like it had burned him. He clenched his fists at his side and stared into the darkness of the wooded thicket through his side window.

She wondered if he really wanted to remove his hand at all, the time it took. Hermione felt bad for him but also had enough experiences with men to know when they needed something from her which couldn’t be put into words, only gestures, caresses or occasionally, anger.

Hermione reached up and turned on the internal lamp, illuminating them in a stark white light. Nervously she chewed on her lip and placed her hand on his. She hated the idea that she may not appear genuine because of past differences but at this moment she was all he had after the bad news he’d received. The loss of Lucius Malfoy really wasn't the top of her list of worries, she thought he’d deserved everything he’d got. Regardless, she felt like a cold-hearted bitch for even admitting it to herself while Draco, who stank like a brewery, closed in on himself with an agonised look on his face beside her. 

"Malfoy, I'm sorry, I didn't know." She said gently as he trembled. She couldn’t tell if it was his injury, the alcohol or his loss which made him shudder, so she picked up her wand with her free hand. Her magical core felt rusty and out of practice as she healed the gash in his head, scourgifying the blood away in the process, her magic did as it was bidden. It had been some time since she’d used her wand but its presence in her hand felt right and she felt somewhat normal again because of it. Part of her muggle lifestyle had been magically absent until now, apart from when she occasionally visited the world she’d left behind.

He looked up sharply once he was back to his normal, albeit, drunk self, pushing her hand away with a snort of arrogance just like she expected. "Yeah, like I believe that! All the fucking wizarding world know, I don’t know how you could dare to feign ignorance!"

She gasped, her memory taking her back to the way he treated her when she was eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. She struggled to regain composure, the cocktails she'd had bubbling nauseatingly in her lower belly. Rubbing her forehead with the heel of her lower hand she eventually replied. "Look, Malfoy, I haven’t heard about your father, and as for my ignorance, I'm not going there with you. Needless to say, it was people like him who made me return to live my real life back in muggle London, mostly oblivious to what goes on in the wizarding world. When I say I didn't know, I mean I didn't know!" She slammed her hand on the steering wheel and knocked the horn, it’s din bursting into the night.

He didn't reply so she opened her door, stumbling as she got out to survey the damage to the car. She wondered how someone like Malfoy could create feelings in her she long thought had been dead and buried. She could admit to herself that she’d become a ghost of herself and actual feelings really were no longer something she experienced, probably because she spent her teen years suffering the after-effects of war, loss and guilt. Bending to look at the damage, she tutted at the scrape which was half an inch deep along the flank of the car. The lights were on inside and his head was in his hands, his shoulders shaking. She felt sorry for her harsh words, trying to feel something more than anger at his presence and the state they found themselves in. She knew she should feel anguished at how she’d almost killed someone, and he had good reason to be upset, after all she was the one who almost ran him down, she knew she would have killed him if he'd been a muggle. Fear and self-loathing gripped her inside, clawing at her throat as tears stung her eyes. Perhaps this was the point where she had to tell herself she’d gone too far, to admit that her life was way out of control.

She took off her shoes, picking them up with one hand and feeling pine needles prickling at her toes. Life never seemed so real as at that moment. It was a stark reminder of the loss of her own parents and how she felt when she found out they were never going to be to her as they once were. She chewed on her thumbnail and climbed back into the car, placing her knees on the seat and watching him with concern as he sobbed. She moved as close as she dared and spoke. "Draco, I'm sorry. I was harsh then, but I promise you I didn't know, I would never—" she paused as her throat hitched, "I would never be so cruel. I know things have never been easy between us, but I'm not nasty, you must know that. I don't remember being—"

"Anything but kind." His voice was gravelled with emotion. He dropped his hands to his side languidly, like he had no energy to do anything else.

She was surprised by his comment. "Well, if we're honest, I can't say I was always kind to most people. Unfortunately, you were a bit of a git to me and generally on the receiving end of my wrath." She uttered. Her eyes were on the devastated man, for once taking real pity on him, not the same pity she had when she knew he'd done terrible things at the bidding of those who held power over him, no, but the compassion one has for another human being who has suffered bereavement of one they loved, however complicated. Hermione knew Draco’s father was the one who had him do Voldemort’s bidding because of his own cowardice and this same father was the person he was shedding tears for now, the father who was dead. She had always shown empathy, she’d just forgotten this ingrained skill, buried it deep inside her with her own hurt and pain and even her magic until now, but somehow Malfoy’s unmistakeable grief brought it all shooting to the surface once more.

"You were always decent and good. Salazar, your beauty always shone from inside you like a beacon of light, I knew it, everyone knew it." He swallowed and she found her eyes on his throat, following a fine line of blonde hair at the edge of the V-neck black jumper he wore.

"That seems like a world away." She sank back on her haunches, casting the back of her hand over her brow. "Good seems like something I once was, Draco. Now I'm just someone who doesn't really know who I am anymore."

"Then now you're a member of my club," he sighed, "a brilliant one, isn't it?" 

“I know,” she swallowed apprehensively, “I know you’ve probably always felt that way, your upbringing didn’t strike me as normal,” his eyes flashed and she swiftly continued to save on misunderstanding, “I mean, I’m sure it was fine before the return of Voldemort, but after that, it can’t have been easy for you, living in that house with him and the Death Eaters.” She glanced at his forearm and closed her eyes at how obvious her wariness had been.

His cheek ticked like he was grinding his teeth and she suspected he was going to let rip with a tirade to rival anything she’d experienced at school. But he didn’t and cautiously she opened her eyes to find him watching her with a similar look.

“You’re right, I know you are, but he wasn’t—it wasn’t always that way, he was a good father once.” His eyes dropped from hers to his hands clenched in his lap. “Look, I’m sure you have better places to be, so get your wand, princess, and get your car back on the road to wherever it was you were heading. You don’t want to hear my sob story, I’m sure.” He reached for the handle.

Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t want him to leave like this but didn’t know how to stop him.

He stopped at the noise and looked back to her. She felt like he was really looking at her, his eyes boring deep in the windows of her soul. His eyes were like that of a lost little boy and her heart wept for him. “This might seem a little bit crazy—” She began.

“But we’ve established you’re crazy enough to run a wizard down on the road already, so why should that be anything unusual?” The corners of his lips lifted in the beginnings of a grin.

She smiled and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Oh, that, yes, I totally agree, and you know I’ve apologised. Err, well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get a drink somewhere? If you’ve had too much already, we can find a place to get a coffee? Um, it’s your call.”

Draco’s lips quirked and she felt elated when he smiled genuinely. It was a real smile, like the ones he often gave to his friends or Pansy Parkinson before sixth year when he was still a git to Gryffindor’s like her, Ron and Harry but he was filled with life and merriment around his mates. She felt honoured to be on the receiving end of such a grin and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she had always been hoping the Slytherin God might direct one at her, just once, because he was perfect in so many ways, it was just he was a bastard in countenance back then and possibly still now. All the girls fancied him, and she spent many evenings watching him illuminated under the candles of the Great Hall as he mucked about with his house, while pretending to spy for Harry. She could never quite understand why he hated her so much, or how he was so stupid he belittled someone due to their blood, but now he was here and there was an opportunity to ask him, that’s if they didn’t kill each other first.

“I’d like that, I want a proper drink as after the crash I’m sober as a Gringotts’s goblin,” he answered, “and I’m also intrigued to know why you’ve just blushed to the roots of your hair, Granger.”

“Bollocks have I!” She laughed, knowing she was probably as red a beetroot. “Now, let’s get going before the police arrive and I’m arrested for dangerous driving.” Hermione felt terrible guilt about the many times she’d driven while inebriated. Most nights she was well over the limit and she knew she’d had a wakeup call here. She promised herself she’d never do it again and cast an invisibility charm on the car, knowing she’d need to find somewhere to sleep off the alcohol tonight once Draco left.

…………………

They apparated to the King William pub, which was a mile or so away. Draco was fascinated when she drew out her mobile phone and searched for somewhere to go and asked a few questions about where he could get one.

Once inside, they found themselves a table near the fire, it was quiet for a Friday night and they drew a few looks from locals as they entered. Hermione was almost the same height as Draco in her sparkly six-inch heels, shoes he’d tried not to look at, but she’d seen him look at both them and her legs several times since they entered. They were two attractive people and Hermione guessed they looked like a fantastic couple, he with his smart suit and her in her haute couture. 

“What are you drinking?” He asked, pulling out her chair in a gentlemanly fashion so she could sit. It was unexpected and staggered when she went to pull it out herself at the same time. 

“Can you ask them for a Woo Woo, please.”

His eyebrows shot up and he gave her a disbelieving look. “Granger, you’d better be serious, I’m not going up there to ask for that if you’re kidding me.”

She giggled, covering her mouth. “We’ve come this far, Malfoy, do you think I’d make you look a fool?” 

He sighed dramatically, “Err, yes, you could easily make me look like the worlds biggest fool in a muggle pub.”

“I promise I’m not. It’s vodka, peach Schnapps and cranberry, they’ll know what it is.”

He gave her an incredulous look but turned to the bar. She watched his muscles ripple under the suit as he leaned over the bar, chatting with the barman, probably about what was best to drink here, and she bit her lip as she devoured his form. He was still as slim, but in three years he’d filled out, his shoulders were broader and his hair was light and fluffy like in third year, although that could be from the scourgify and she wondered if perhaps he had product in his hair before she accidentally ploughed into him? He fished in his side pocket for his wallet and his suit jacket swung back at his waist. She felt like a letch as she glanced at his tight arse and felt the usual race of a challenge thrum through her. This was how it was when she usually picked someone up, but by now she was often so close to a guy at the bar he didn’t know what hit him. Brushing a few stray curls from her neck, she decided it was not a good idea to crack onto Malfoy tonight, he was bereft, and she wasn’t sure if she was still in shock from the accident. Instead she wondered where he’d been tonight to get so drunk in the first place, it seemed odd to see him so nervous if he’d been out in muggle pubs in Bath because he’d be used to being in them. She wasn’t sure if she knew of any wizarding establishments in this area, but supposed it wasn’t totally unlikely, this area, after all, had an historic past. She watched him tap his fingers on the bar and glance swiftly in her direction and smirk. He was taking his time and she moved to rub her calve, just above her ankle, it was sore from the earlier impact and didn’t notice him approach. 

Draco startled her as he placed her drink before her and sunk into the seat opposite. “Your drink, your magical bookwormness.” He chuckled, his eyes dark as she looked up and caught his glance at her legs.

“Thank you, your princely snake-ferretness.” She replied, her chest shaking as she chuckled. This seemed like a mistake as his eyes darted to her chest and he looked away sharply. Caught you again, she thought. It was weird to be here with him at all, let alone to find him checking her out so many times.

“Dear Granger, I can always count on you to bring up the worst times in my life.” He grinned, but a cloud passed over his face and she regretted what she’d said.

“Malfoy, you honestly deserved that.”

“What? To spend an inordinately long time trying to escape from Crabbe’s underpants. Seriously, Granger, it was torture.” His face blanched when he realised what he’d said.

She took in a deep breath, letting it go slowly. “I know that you didn’t mean to mention—Look, don’t think I think you—” She tried to smooth things over, it was too early in their newfound friendship to get onto this subject, if that’s what it was at all.

“No, I must to apologise for that. Look, Granger, if there’s anything I spend my nights agonising over its that. Taking a leaf out of your navvy book, it fucking nearly killed me to watch it, so don’t brush it under the carpet like it never happened between us, because it did, and it was far worse than anything else I ever went through. At least then it was me who, w-who—” Draco stopped and stared at her, his hand shaking almost uncontrollably as he reached for his muggle whiskey and took a hearty swig, the ice rattling as he downed it.

Hermione realised he’d probably taken the crutiatus more times than she had that day at his aunt’s hand and wondered if his tremor was a throwback when under stress. For the first time since they touched earlier, she placed her hand over his to steady it. His wrath be damned. 

He scrubbed at his forehead and she found the will to speak. “I saw you lie to save us as best you could, Bella—Bellatrix chose to do that to me and I saw your face while it happened, Draco, I saw how distressed you were, how it wasn’t easy for you. Why do you think we testified for you at your trial? Harry and I always agreed that you put yourself in an unfathomable position that day at the manor, and even that day with Dumbledore. We couldn’t blame you when we found time to think about it.”

Draco was shocked by her use of his name. She’d said it earlier in the car but had brushed it off as a slip of the tongue. This time he knew she’d meant it; she’d called him by his name purposefully. “You’re just being kind. I had opportunities, I could’ve gone to Dumbledore when I first found out, but even on the astronomy tower he knew what I’d done and he tried to help me, I just didn’t know how to help myself, Hermione, I didn’t know how to get myself out of the dark cauldron I found myself in. I told Dumbledore the Dark Lord would kill me but, my mother—” Draco was shaking again, it always seemed to happen when he talked about the war and it was why he was out getting blind drunk that night at the Witcherium in Bath, a wizarding strip joint. Things had been alright until he got ejected for fighting some idiot who tried to touch the girls and he’d apparated drunk and blindly hit the slope into Bath instead of outside the gates of Malfoy manor. 

Hermione stood and moved to the seat beside him, taking his hands in hers and holding them until the shaking stopped. She guessed he hated appearing weak before her of all people, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her offering him comfort. “Draco, we all suffer from the after-effects of war. Why do you think I was here, over the limit and driving into the middle of nowhere?” She didn’t tell him she was looking for sex, for a moment of closeness with someone that made her feel alive, even just for a moment. “I think it’s fate that we’ve met again tonight, I think we needed each other, and fate intervened.”

“How can you say that? I don’t deserve your compassion; I don’t even deserve you to sit in the same room and talk to me. I deserved to rot in Azkaban with Lucius, and I was just lucky that you and Potter tormented me by giving me the worst punishment, the one where I have to live with my remorse and guilt every fucking day!” His voice rose and a few patrons looked their way.

She delicately released his hands and headed back to the bar, whispering to the barman. “He’s lost his father today; do you know of any rooms we can rent for the night? I think it’s best if I get him to bed.” She glanced back at Draco, his lips were pursed and his face blank, as if he was about to cry.

“Yes, miss, we have a bed and breakfast upstairs. Can I get you anything else?” He said handing her some keys and accepting her credit card in payment. 

“Could I take a bottle of whiskey and some sandwiches, anything you can do at this time of night.”

She returned to the table and touched Draco’s shoulder tenderly. “I have somewhere for us to sleep, they’ll give us some food and drink.”

“Granger, I—” He looked devastated, like the significance of the day he would be having tomorrow was drowning him and he realised Hermione Granger was the only one there for him.

“You don’t need to worry about any funny business, we’ll just see each other through the night.” She said softly, offering her hand and pulling him towards the stairs at the back of the pub.

He couldn’t speak as she drew him to the bed in the sparse room, removing his clothes carefully and urging him under the covers once she’d stripped him to his boxers. He knew he should be with his mother tonight, but his newly reconnected aunt, Andromeda, had purposefully stayed at the manor tonight to be by his mother’s side, leaving him to go off and get blind drunk. Instead of spending the night alone, he was here with her, Hermione Granger, the sweetest and most caring person he’d ever known. It was the oddest experience, but it felt right somehow to watch her lift her dress over her head and pour them both a large glass of whiskey from the bottle she’d carried up with her. She wore the most enticing black lace underwear and his eyes dropped to her breasts as she leaned over the bed and handed him a glass. 

“I want you to feel someone with you tonight. You need it and I need it too. Then tomorrow you’ll feel like you can face the world.” She whispered in his ear, planting a kiss to his brow.

Laying on his side, he took a sip of the whiskey and lifted the covers to let her slide in beside him. She was exquisite, all bronzed legs, toned body covered with black lace and at any other time he’d shag her into the mattress. This time he needed her to see him through his darkest hours and something told him that was important to her too. She made herself comfortable on the pillows and they stared at each other like they’d never really seen each other before.

He reached his arm out and settled it around her waist, deliberately avoiding the lace of her knickers. His cock was hard but kept safely within the confines of his boxers. She was warm, soft and focussed only on him, everything he’d ever wanted in a witch, but none he’d ever shagged had wanted to just be together, to talk or to understand him, to just be. They only wanted his name and to be lady of the manor. He sipped his drink and placed it on the bedside table. Moving down the bed slightly he peered up at her and she nodded, opening her arms and allowing him to settle his head upon her breast. He slid his legs against hers, relishing their smooth feel as she began to sing gently. It was a song he’d never heard before, mentioning rainbows, stars, lemon drops and lullabies. He felt his eyelids flutter closed as she hummed some parts and sang others. That night was possibly the worst night of his life, but she’d changed that just by being there with him and sharing in his grief. “Thank you, Hermione.” He murmured as he fell asleep wrapped in her arms.

Hermione reached over to turn out the light, he’d called her princess earlier and she had to say she kind of liked it as it gave her a warm feeling she didn’t want to address right now. She felt at peace as she finished what she remembered of the words, “And the dreams that you dream of, Dreams really do come true…”


End file.
